


high in the halls (jaime would dance with his ghosts)

by milliemoo301



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, a bittersweet kid fic bc i felt like it tbh, but yeah it's kinda sad im sorry lol, fluff too, his grief has been left largely unexplored, jaime is a worry-ridden softie, king!jon bc i said so mf, this also connects to my 1 other work lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 15:36:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19276258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milliemoo301/pseuds/milliemoo301
Summary: Jaime is haunted by ghosts.Or, snippets of a healing Westeros and Jaime facing his past while living his new life.





	high in the halls (jaime would dance with his ghosts)

**Author's Note:**

> wassup it is 10 pm and i have no beta we die like men.  
> every time i make a typo the ghost of jaime lannister's character development bitch slaps me Red Ronnet style.

 

The king himself, Jon Snow, summoned them to King's Landing. It was only a matter of time, really. His throne was secure, the smallfolk were starting to trust the idea of a new monarch on that damned throne- which is a welcome reprieve to mad men and women, spoiled teenagers and drunkards. With Davos as Hand and Tyrion on the small council, Westeros had perhaps earned a fighting chance at rebirth. Jaime is by default lord of the Rock, and Brienne the heir to Tarth and her ailing father's representative, making a meeting with them a small matter of state to secure all six remaining kingdoms. Jaime might hate the fucking north, but he hates the idea of going back to that cursed capital _even_ _more_. 

When Brienne receives the raven, they're sitting in the Great Hall of Winterfell, baby Arthur- though not quite a baby anymore, Jaime was loathe to admit- sits in between his parents, happily chattering about how Sansy had told him he was lucky to be both a lion AND a wolf and all the other little boys in the training yard were jealous of his ferocity. Jaime chuckles, wiping away the smear of jam on his cheek with his thumb. For a brief moment, he remembers another set of plump cherubic cheeks belonging to another darling little boy, but that memory fizzles out as soon as it is conjured. He turns to his wife and notices her furrowed brow and a scroll in her hand. He reads over her shoulder, and the air leaves his lungs. 

\----------------------------------------------

Brienne finds him later, watching the training yard, eyes hard and face expressionless. Usually he'd be down there himself, being the Master-at-Arms, but she knows her husband well enough to see the lines of worry in his face. Her heart breaks all over again, her golden lion withdrawing inward, no doubt thinking of the events that led him here. It's something they don't speak of. He shed his sister along with his Lannister armor all those years ago, before the Long Night. The capital burned, later, and so did the last remnants of _before_. They married mere weeks later, knowing the future was uncertain but their love wasn't. They moved on, forgetting betrayal and bloodshed and lies. They had a son, a Queen that welcomed them. But Brienne was no fool, and she had always known their bliss was bound to be interrupted. 

"Jaime. Talk to me, my love."

He turns, and Brienne cups his face, a thousand words on her lips. _It's alright. We don't have to go. We can have Sansa write to him._

"We have to go before the king", Jaime says, eyes bearing into hers. He sighs, thumb swiping the back of her hand. "It's alright. It's time I payed my brother a visit." He takes her hand in his, kissing her palm. "I'll just complain the whole way there. Perhaps I'll even be _warm_ for once." He chuckles, but his smile doesn't quite meet his eyes. 

"If you're sure." 

He sighs. "As I'll ever be."

He turns to leave, but Brienne grabs his wrist, turning him to face her once again. "There's something...there's something you should know." His gaze finds hers again, and she bites her lip. She takes his flesh hand and presses it against her belly. He looks down, then up again, recognition flashing in his eyes. And then he's _smiling_ , this time _for real_ , grabbing his wife and kissing her like his life depended on it, a laugh bursting from his lips. 

They might be travelling into a valley of ashes, but new life was blooming all the same. 

\----------------------------------------------

They were only supposed to stay a month or two, but the journey was tiring and tedious for a pregnant woman and Tyrion Lannister too _charming_ to let his goodsister and brother leave that easily. As the months went by, so did their chance of leaving. There was always something to be done, and Jaime knew there was no way to get his wife on the road once her time was near. He had a sneaking suspicion his brother had planned to keep them all along.

They met with the king, and more or less became an unofficial part of his council. He was a good lad, Jaime thought. A bit brooding perhaps, but had competence and compassion, something so many previous monarchs lacked or were never given the chance to utilize. 

Sometimes Jaime walked the halls alone, his feet guiding him like muscle memory. He passed courtyards and abandoned, ash-ridden rooms not touched by the carpenters yet. A thousand images crossed into his mind, some making the ache in his heart spread to his entire chest, tears springing in his eyes. He saw a toddling Tommen, proudly presenting Uncle Jaime his new wooden carved lion before being ushered away by Cersei. He saw a young and beautiful Myrcella having her hair brushed by a handmaiden in the sun, eyes closed and face squinting in the light. 

Sometimes he even saw Elia, her feet pattering softly in a circle, swaying, lips on her baby's head. 

In those moments, he quickly retreats, instead seeking out his wife who was busy negotiating trade on behalf of Tarth or detailing new measures to train troops to an awe-struck Jon. He tries to focus on the present, his son waiting for his back in Winterfell, no doubt being spoiled by the Queen or his wife, growing rounder each day but still absorbed in work. 

The ghosts, however, never leave.

He can still hear the sound of dead children giggling. 

\----------------------------------------------

_He looks into the angelic face of his daughter, caressing her soft cheek with his flesh hand, marveling at her emerald eyes. Beautiful, like Cersei, but devoid of all the cruelty. She smiled at him, a smile full of innocence and promise. He could stay here forever._

_That beautiful smile was replaced by a frown, eyes suddenly widening in fear. Blood gushed from her nose._

_"Father?" She whimpered._

Jaime wakes with a start, heart hammering in his chest, taking in his surroundings. He's in his bedchamber at the Red Keep. For a moment,he forgets what year it is, the panic spreading to his limbs. 

" _Shhh_. Just another nightmare. You're alright. I'm here. We're here. _Shhh_ , " Brienne coos, interrupting his thoughts. She pulls him to her chest, and he cries for his daughter for the first time in years. He cries for his baby boy too, the image of his tiny body climbing to that ledge swirling in his sleep-addled brain. Brienne just holds him, stroking his hair, muffling his sobs. 

The ghosts haunt him even in his dreams. 

\----------------------------------------------

The night was alive with Brienne's screams. 

Jaime paced outside the door, anxiety gnawing at his very bones, his one remaining hand clenched at his side. 

He should be with her. He _had_ been with her, hours or maybe even a lifetime ago. He couldn't tell. The pains had come on slowly, in the early morning. Jaime stayed by her side, rubbing her back, holding water to her lips. She was such a fighter, pausing to smile at him and accept kisses on the forehead, excited about another baby, a sibling for their golden boy. 

But hours passed. And even more after that.

Brienne had resorted to clutching at Jaime's jerkin, face in his chest as she wept. The exhaustion was starting to get the better of her, the pains seemingly more intense than the first time she gave birth.  More midwives burst in, and he could vaguely hear the sound of a Maester barking orders. Something was wrong, he realized. All he could do was clutch his exhausted wife closer to him, closing his eyes and willing the terror building up in his throat to go away. 

_Mother, keep her safe_ , he prayed desperately. 

The Maester approached them, an apology already written on his features.

"What?" Jaime demanded, wincing as Brienne gripped him like a vice. 

"I'm afraid this is where you must leave, my lord. The child is in distress, and we must have nothing in our way to get through these next hours," the Maester said, already guiding Brienne to lie flat. When she saw the stricken look on her husband's face, she sobbed harder, reaching for him. Jaime could only shush her, carding his hand through her sweat drenched hair. He pressed a trembling kiss on her forehead. 

"Alright. I'll go, but if something goes wrong, you bloody well better let me back in," Jaime said, looking up at the Maester. The old man nodded, turning to direct a midwife. Jaime stooped down onto the bed, whispering "It's alright, my heart. I'll be back before you realize it and we'll have another cub. I love you." 

Brienne looked up at him, tears and sweat cascading down her reddened face. "Please don't leave," she cried, and Jaime wanted to weep alongside her and pull her in his arms again, but a midwife was clutching his arm and guiding him to the door. The last thing he saw before it was slammed in his face was his beautiful warrior of a wife gripping the sheets like a vice while the Maester went to work.

And so, Jaime paced outside the chambers, pausing occasionally to back up against the door, listening to the noises within. Sometimes she called for him between screams, and his heart broke each and every time. 

He could hear the sound of Queen Rhaella's screams all those years ago, the sound of Cersei's anguished crying over her son's dead body. When he closed his eyes to escape it, he saw the mangled body of baby Aegon, Elia's boy. He saw Myrcella's serene, bloodied face in his lap, and almost retched. His entire body felt far to warm, his heart beating so wildly he thought there was a stampede in his chest. He was so helpless. _I couldn't save them. I can't save Brienne or our baby_ , he thought, tears beginning to spring in his eyes. 

A hand appeared on his back, startling him from his panic. He turned around to see Tyrion, a wineskin in hand and a grim expression on his face. Jaime all but sank into his arms in relief, a tiny sob escaping. Tyrion patted his back in return. "She'll be alright, dear brother. She always is." Jaime pulled back and wiped at his face, accepting the wine and drinking deeply. "That's it. Nothing a little drunkenness can't fix, I'm sure," Tyrion said, sitting down and patting the spot next to him. "Come. I'll imagine we'll both be here a while," and Jaime sat down, letting more tears slide down his cheek as his wife's screams morphed into pained cried in the nearby chambers.

The brothers kept vigil together, not saying much but passing the wine between them. It reminded Jaime of a night long ago, in front of the fire before the army of the dead descended upon Winterfell. The night he knighted Brienne and looked into those blue eyes, full of pride and love. He couldn't help but think he'd rather be fighting the Night King himself, instead of helplessly sitting by, separated from the one he loved most as she struggled to bring their child into the world. _This wasn't supposed to happen_ , he thought. _We were supposed to be here for a brief visit. I'm supposed to be with my baby boy, introducing him to his new sibling back in Winterfell, not sitting here in the fucking Red Keep._ If not for Tyrion and his quiet support, he would be completely undone, Jaime knew. 

All around him, the ghosts danced.

\----------------------------------------------

Jaime didn't know how much time had passed, but the sun was already in the sky when the Maester finally opened the door. Jaime scrambled to his feet."Well?" He demanded. The Maester smiled. "You have a daughter, my Lord. Poor stubborn thing got rather stuck, I'm afraid. But all is well now and you may come see them." Jaime almost collapsed in relief, and Tyrion grinned, clapping a hand on his brother's back. The Maester bowed and led Jaime into the room, and he almost dashed in there like a madman. He stopped in front of the bed, taking in the scene in front of him. 

Brienne was upright against the pillows, the slightly bruised but otherwise pink and shining newborn held tightly to her chest. He eyes, focused solely on the bundle she held, flicked up to her husband. "Oh Jaime," she breathed, and he finally moved towards her, sliding into the bed and gathering her into his arms. He held her tightly, nose pressed in her hair and eyes on their baby. A little girl, with sapphire blue eyes. _His_ little girl, for real this time. Jaime felt more tears begin to form, and he sat there, not speaking, just drinking in his family. 

"Well done, my love," he whispered finally, breaking the silence. Brienne looked up at him, beaming. He almost choked with the intense love that overwhelmed him. 

"I want to name her Joanna," she said, voice hoarse. Jaime could only nod, overcome. 

_She looks just like Myrcella did_ , he thought idly, reaching over to caress the infant's smooth, downy soft head. 

He could almost imagine her smiling down at them. 

\----------------------------------------------

Tyrion and King Jon were loathe to part with the Lord and Lady Lannister, but as soon as Brienne was well enough to travel, they knew they had to get back to Winterfell. They had been gone for nearly an entire year, and Jaime couldn't spend another night away from his son. The boy was clearly itching to meet his new sibling, as Sansa's ravens detailed.

Jaime especially wanted to get away from his visions of the dead. 

\----------------------------------------------

Jaime realized, later on, that he was never given enough time to simply _grieve_. He had shed a fair amount of tears over the children's' deaths, but had always pushed their memories aside, instead wrapped up in whatever political scheme his sister was embroiled in.

But as he watched his wife almost die, and their child in danger, did he realize the full weight of what he could lose.

And what he had already lost. 

Jaime left King's Landing, but took his children's ghosts with him. They didn't deserve it- innocent casualties in wars they had no place in. Crowns placed upon heads that could barely carry the weight. He loved them, those babies doomed from their first breath. 

But as he watched Brienne nurse Joanna in their bed at Winterfell, Arthur snuggled in between them, marveling at his baby sister, Jaime realized he could never have saved them. They had no place in his bed with his wife and children, those ghosts. 

Let the dead lie. And let him keep on living. 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: www.mmystique.tumblr.com i contribute nothing of substance to any fandoms but enjoy my garbage anyway


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